


Broken Wings

by Threshie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Wings, Angst, Caring Sam, Fluff, Gen, Guilt, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Team Free Will, possible inaccuracies to canon since I have not seen past that point, started so light-hearted..., takes place somewhere in season 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-24 01:03:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10730958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threshie/pseuds/Threshie
Summary: Sam finds a way to see angels' wings, helping them identify who is an angel on sight. He doesn't realize just how damaged Cas's wings are from Metatron's spell until he sees it for himself, though.





	Broken Wings

“Where's the steampunk convention?” Dean asked, grinning. Sam pulled the little silver spectacles off and gave his brother his best exasperated look.

“The spell said to use glasses, but they have to be made of actual metal. These are antique, so they work for this,” he explained, studying the glasses. The little round lenses glinted in the light. He'd spent the past week setting up every little detail of the spell to match the book's instructions exactly, and the past 24 hours putting them through three stages of sigils and chants. Finally, they were ready.

“Do they work?” Dean looked at the glasses skeptically. For all of the spellwork, they weren't glowing or doing anything particularly impressive. In fact, they were a bit tarnished and bent. Sam didn't care. If they did what the spell said, they were priceless.

“I still need to test them.” He glanced down the hallway toward the bunker's main room. “Where's Cas?”

Dean stepped past him and into the room, glancing around too. 

“He was here just a minute ago.”

“Cas?” Sam called, looking around. There was an open book left laying on the table, and judging by Dean's look over there first, the angel had been reading when Dean saw him last. 

Just when they were both starting to wonder, Castiel stepped into sight in the kitchen doorway, holding a dish towel.

“I'm here. What do you need?” He looked from one brother to the other. Sam smiled, slipping the glasses back on. 

“Nothing. Hold still for a second, okay?”

Dean was shrugging at Cas when he looked back up, and the angel... 

Sam quickly looked away. The glasses were supposed to reveal angels on sight, reveal their wings. He'd known that Cas's wings were damaged, known it was bad enough that he couldn't fly with them, but he'd had no idea they were THIS bad. Blood or scars, he might have been prepared for. Instead, the shape of wings were there, but they were all tattered feathers and burnt bones, and were crooked, like they might be broken. It made Sam sick to think that Cas might still be able to feel them in that state. 

Could he? Or were they just dead?

Either way, the sight of them was so disturbing that Sam had to force himself to take a second look. No, they couldn't be dead — they still MOVED when Castiel did. The angel had noticed his reaction by now, and was looking at him with that curious tilt of his head that he always did. 

“What is it?”

Dean had noticed Sam's reaction, too, and glanced between him and Sam quietly. 

“They work,” he concluded, turning to look at Castiel thoughtfully. When the angel shot him a questioning glance, he explained, “They're spell glasses to see angels, Cas.”

Castiel had a dubious look as Sam stepped closer, but he didn't seem to mind being stared at.

“You can't be seeing my true form — you would already be blind.”

Sam was trying not to cringe while even looking at him. The battered wings moved with the angel's gestures in an absentminded way, stretching out if he moved his arm, twitching when he turned his head. 

“You still look like the vessel,” he admitted, trying not to sound as upset as he felt. “But I can see your...wings.” 

Dean stepped over, too, curious. 

“Judging by your face, they don't look all that great.”

Sam met Cas's eyes, searching them for any pain. He couldn't explain why this was so disturbing to him, but it was. It was like learning Dean had lost a limb and he somehow hadn't noticed all this time. 

“They're broken,” Cas said quietly, avoiding Sam's eyes. He did look pained — pained and weighed down by guilt. “Like every other angel's.”

Sam put a hand on his shoulder, feeling a pang in his chest.

“Do they hurt?” 

The angel looked at the hand on his shoulder, frowning. 

“I've gotten used to it. Don't concern yourself, Sam. I'm fine.”

Sam looked at the broken wings, black feathers falling off on the floor, and shook his head. 

“No you're not, Cas.”

Dean shot him a warning look. Cas wasn't used to them being able to see this part of him. Maybe he felt cornered. Maybe Sam should have asked permission before looking at his wings. 

Instead of any angry reply, though, the angel took a deep breath and stood up straighter. Sam could see the broken wings twitch, trying to follow the movement, and felt sick all over again for him. They hurt, he'd said they hurt.

“Sam,” Cas said, wearily, “there isn't any point in worrying about this. They are broken, and there isn't any way to fix it.” 

“You could've mentioned they hurt you, though,” Dean said, looking him over with a worried little frown. He hadn't even seen the wings yet. Castiel turned to him, sighing.

“Why, Dean? I can bear it on my own — you haven't noticed before now, so clearly I am doing well enough.”

That was the opposite of reassuring, and Sam was glad he wasn't the only one who obviously felt guilty for not noticing sooner that Cas was in pain. Dean shook his head.

“Because you don't HAVE to deal with it by yourself! You're here for me and Sam when we need you, and we're here for you, man.”

Cas had that guilty look again, but he didn't argue with Dean. Instead, he said quietly, “My brothers and sisters don't have anyone to help them.”

Sam couldn't help it — he closed the last few steps of space between them, wrapping his arms around the angel. The wings looked vividly real, but his arms went right through them.

“I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Cas. I should've asked before I looked at you,” he whispered. “You probably didn't want us to see. I'm sorry.”

“Sam...” Cas hugged him tightly in return, patting his back. “This is not your fault. It's mine.” He sighed gently, leaning his head on Sam's shoulder. “Don't feel sorry for me. If anyone should suffer the consequences of letting Metatron into Heaven, it should be me.” 

“You didn't help him make all of the angels fall,” Dean insisted, stepping closer to place a hand on Cas's back. Sam had to look away as his brother's hand slipped through one of the broken wings and a few feathers fluttered to the floor. “He went turncoat on you. The angels falling, that's HIS fault, Cas.” 

“Dean...”

“He's right,” Sam said, looking down at the angel sadly. The wings looked so awful, but he tried to focus on Cas's blue eyes instead. “You don't deserve this. This isn't some penance for working with him for awhile. He USED you. He hurt you. It's not your fault, and you should stop punishing yourself for it.”

Dean caught Sam's eyes, then looked down at Cas again. He'd had his share of self-loathing, and this was probably all too familiar. The three of them had plenty of reasons to be guilty. This wasn't one of them, though — the blame lay squarely with Metatron, and Cas was as much a victim as any other angel who had fallen. More of one, considering Metatron had cut his grace out to use in the spell. 

Sam didn't want to think about what that had been like. He could feel Cas trembling in his arms, and wondered if it would have been better not to reopen this wound. But Cas couldn't heal until they did it — convinced him it wasn't his fault. His wings would always be injured, but that didn't mean he had to bear this guilt forever. 

“Heaven had already cast me out,” the angel whispered against Sam's shoulder, “And I should have left it at that. Instead, I ruined it for everyone. Without me, his plan would have failed. Having the best of intentions does not make me blameless. I-I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but sorry won't let anyone fly again.”

 _Including you,_ Sam thought, rubbing his back gently. 

“Like I had the best intentions working with Ruby, and broke the last seal instead,” he replied. He could feel Dean's gaze on him at that, but he kept his focus on the angel in his arms. “It's just like the wings, Cas — this is how it is. They're broken, Heaven's broken, and it's done. We've gotta live with it, and if we're still alive then the best thing we can do to make up for our mistakes is to help other people.”

Cas was quiet for a long time. Hopefully some of the words reached him. Hopefully this tiny, brief human perspective mattered somehow in the centuries of life he'd had. Sam couldn't hope to understand how he felt, being exiled from Heaven and at odds with every other angel he'd been comrades with for thousands — THOUSANDS – of years. He could barely comprehend how tiny this moment and even his and Dean's lifetimes must seem to a being that much bigger than them. 

Cas seemed so small right now, though, and human. Crying was human.

“I-I can still be of use. I can help you and Dean.”

“And we can help you,” Dean told him gently. “Okay?”

“H-how, Dean?” Cas couldn’t even look at him. He hid his face against Sam’s shoulder, still shaking. “You can’t fix this.” Unable to look at the broken wings anymore, Sam pulled the glasses off and shoved them at his brother. He hadn’t even seen yet, he needed to see. 

Dean slipped the glasses on grimly and looked at the angel’s back. Sam could see the realization in his eyes — the pain. He understood now. Wordlessly, Dean stepped closer, hugging Cas from behind. The brothers stood there arm in arm, the angel held safe between them. 

"We're here, Cas." Dean's voice had a rough edge to it. He didn't say anything else, just that. 

Castiel quieted, relaxed a little. Sam rested his chin on top of the angel’s head, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. That did seem to help. They couldn’t fix Cas’s wings, but at least their friend no longer had to face it alone. They couldn't fix it, but they could still help.

**Author's Note:**

> Here, have some angst. Inspired by that shot where we see Cas's wings silhouetted and they're practically just bones.


End file.
